


when everything loved becomes everything lost

by TempestVoiced



Series: Love at First Blight (Alistair Theirin/Kattrin Amell) [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Brief Mentions of Other Party Members, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, death tw, suicide ideation tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 11:00:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11080182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TempestVoiced/pseuds/TempestVoiced
Summary: The moment the Knight-Commander had let them past the doors, one could hear the moaning and shrieking of abominations, demons, and corpses.Hearingthem was one thing, Kattrin's blood running cold, herself not yet losing hope. Butseeingthem? Seeing young apprentices, no older then ten or eleven, become the thralls of blood mages, or seeing enchanters she had admired have abominations tear through their bodies, it had been almost enough to drive her to the point of madness. Throughout the tower, Kattrin wasafraid, nearly frozen in terror at every new fight between her companions and whatever demons awaited them. How could one fight against the only people they had ever known for so many years?Grey Warden Kattrin Amell reflects on the events that had transpired since returning to her beloved Circle tower, now a breeding ground to blood magic and demons alike. To say she isn't handling it well is an understatement; the state she saw her only home in is enough to break her.





	when everything loved becomes everything lost

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this after doing the Broken Circle quest, having finally gotten around to doing a real, serious play through for my beloved mage Warden, 'cause I _know_ that shit had to of affected her. Also, Zevran and Oghren aren't mentioned due to the fact that I hadn't encountered them in-game at the time of the quest!
> 
> You can also find out more about my Warden @raediantocs on tumblr, & follow my main blog @tempestvoiced.
> 
> TW: Death, Suicide Ideation

Kattrin was silent after they left Kinloch Hold.

Her usual demeanor, one of incessant smiling and cheerful laughter, had been replaced by one of a despondent mage who had seen everything she had ever known and loved, taken from her and ripped apart before her very eyes. The moment the Knight-Commander had let them past the doors, one could hear the moaning and shrieking of abominations, demons, and corpses. _Hearing_ them was one thing, Kattrin's blood running cold, herself not yet losing hope. But _seeing_ them? Seeing young apprentices, no older then ten or eleven, become the thralls of blood mages, or seeing enchanters she had admired have abominations tear through their bodies, it had been almost enough to drive her to the point of madness. Throughout the tower, Kattrin was _afraid_ , nearly frozen in terror at every new fight between her companions and whatever demons awaited them. How could one fight against the only people they had ever known for so many years?

Alistair wasn't the first to notice that her mood wasn't improving by the time they reached camp. Even Morrigan, who sometimes said she found the other mage bothersome and pestering, shared a look with him when they enter their camp on the outskirts of Lake Calenhad. Sten even offered a glance towards the returning group, knowing something was wrong the ever-upbeat mage. Alistair only shrugged at them as Kattrin ignored the looks of pity coming from her party, very much aware of their eyes on her back. Usually, upon her return, she'd be running across the camp to whoever hadn't tagged along on their latest quest to tell them all about it, sometimes with gifts and trinkets in tow, but that was not the case this time. She looked anywhere but her companion's faces and disappeared into her tent, eyes ringed red and a pain in her chest that tightened with every step. When she completely ignored her war hound, Mouse, he whined and followed after her into her tent.

"Do you think she'll be alright?" Leliana asked from beside Alistair, Wynne coming up behind them.

"I say we give her time," Alistair replied before turning to the senior enchanter, "What of you, Wynne? I know the Circle was your home as well."

Wynne shook her head, "I'm rattled, yes, but I will be fine in time. As for Kattrin, I fear she hasn't taken it as well. She held the Circle and its people very, _very_ close to her heart. Seeing what had happened to it...Well, I'm sure you can understand loss."

The two women went their separate ways, hoping the best for their friend. Alistair looked towards Kattrin's tent, sensing no movement from inside.

 

* * *

 

The nightmares the Archdemon provided had _nothing_ on the ones Kinloch Hold gave her.

The party had returned around late afternoon and Kattrin had gone straight to her tent without a word, Mouse being the only one brave enough to follow after her. It was embarrassing, almost, the way she let her emotions get the best of her sometimes. She felt like a porcelain doll; one crack in her resolve and she was in pieces. She had worn her heart on her sleeve for so long and right now, it was overwhelmingly empty, beating hollowly in her chest. The things she had seen, the cries she had heard, they haunted her thoughts and terrorized her dreams. With her connection to the Fade as it was and herself being a mage, everything seemed so much more _intense_ in dreams, feeling much more real than those of a simple warrior or rogue. Like the voices and scenes playing out while she slept could follow her into the waking world if they tried. She had attempted to sleep after secluding herself to her tent, but the faces of people she knew and didn't, _couldn't_ , save wouldn't go away. It was like her mind was punishing her for failing them and not a single thought was unrelated to what had happened.

Hearing the roar of an Archdemon spreading doom upon the world was starting to seem much more preferable to what her thoughts allowed her.

When she awoke not for the last time, night had already befallen the sky and Kattrin didn't trust herself to try and sleep again. She opened the flap of her tent but an inch, and when all she could see was Sten patrolling the outskirts of the camp, she grabbed her blanket and stepped towards the campfire. Mouse lumbered after her, sticking close to her side.

The fire burned low, but with a lazy, half-hearted motion of her hand, it roared back to life, washing her and the mabari in a warm orange glow. She sat in the dirt with Mouse taking up position with his head in her lap, the ground warming up beneath them, and her hazel eyes staring blankly into the flames. Her eyes did not move but watched as the blaze danced and burned the wood slowly into ash. She felt like a shell of a person, free of all things but the guilt and shame and trauma that had latched onto her. Those feelings had consumed her, so much so that she didn't even notice when someone had sat down a few feet away from her until Mouse raised his head.

 

 

The way she looked over towards him looked like the movement of a ghost, slow and expressionless, like she was there but not there. For the first time since Alistair had known her, she did not offer a smile, but instead removed her gaze from him and back towards the fire. Seeing her like this was strange. Ever since their whole _form an army to defeat the Blight_ idea had come to fruition, Kattrin had been the one source of ever abundant optimism and inspiration. A smile or curious look were always part of her wardrobe and her laughter and incessant questioning about the world around her were always ready to bubble forth. To see her so utterly blank and without joy was like seeing a Fereldan with a hatred for dogs--just plain _wrong_.

All was silent between the two for what felt like ages, with nothing but the crackling of the fire and the heavy breathing of Mouse on her lap. When she finally spoke, her voice was low and even, and she didn't even look at him when she talked.

"You don't have to try and make me feel better," she muttered, "I know you're not the best with words sometimes."

In any other situation, Alistair would have laughed at her teasing, but now he just shrugged, inching ever so slightly closer to her.

"I don't think I _can_ make you feel better," he said, "But I've been told I can be a good listener when I try."

After a moment's pause, she turned to look at him, and up close in the firelight, he could see red ringed eyes, the bags clinging to her lids, and the perpetual furrow of her brow. Her voice was still low, but not quite as even. Her lower lip quivered when she spoke.

"The Circle was my home," she began, fingers immediately going to find purchase in the fur of the dog in her lap, "To see all of it... _ruined_ and _tainted_ like that...I never knew Uldred was behind it all. Before Duncan conscripted me, there were rumors about blood mages, yes, and...and my closest friend turned out to be one, but I never thought--"

She took a shuddering breath, reaching a hand up to wipe at her eyes, blinking a few times before continuing.

"I never thought it would get that bad."

"I don't think anyone did."

Quiet fell between them once more. Mouse had fallen asleep in Kattrin's lap by now, snoring, with bits of slobber hanging from his mouth. Her fingers ran through his fur absentmindedly, petting his back in small, concentric circles.

"I came to the Circle when I was seven years old. An accidental trip of magic in the market place," she explained, sighing and, without any warning, leaned over to rest her head on Alistair's shoulder. For a moment, he froze, but when she continued on, his muscles relaxed, "I grew up in the Free Marches. Kirkwall, I think. I don't remember much, but I do remember sending a would-be kidnapper fifteen feet in the air and into a trinkets stall without even touching him. I hadn't known what happened until someone called for the Templars. I suppose it was the panic that set it off, which I think is common in younger mages just coming into their magic. All I know is that it earned me a one-way trip to Kinloch Hold."

"That's pretty impressive for a seven year old, y'know," Alistair said, looking down at her, "Seven year old me would have been amazed. Maybe a little panicked as well."

For a brief second, he saw the corners of her mouth turn up, but it didn't last. The amusement was gone as soon as it had appeared.

"I took to the lessons like a fish to water, so First Enchanter Irving said. He took me on as his apprentice when I began to show promise, and everything I know, I learned from him." Her voice had taken on an nostalgic, wistful tone this time around. Alistair could tell his willing ear and her need to vent were helping, at least a little bit.

"I either spent most of my time in the library, or keeping Jowan out of trouble...you can see how that ended up," Kattrin continued, a hint of bitterness now in her voice, "A day before Duncan came to the Circle, I'd just completed my Harrowing. I was to become a fully-fledged mage within the Circle, but, well. Me and my sympathy, I helped Jowan destroy his phylactery and got caught in the process. Sometimes I wonder, had I not helped him. Had I told Irving, or Greagoir...I probably would have died in that tower, after what Uldred did to it. If I wasn't killed or turned into an abomination, I think I surely would have taken my own life."

Alistair couldn't hold back the way he straightened up, looking her in the eye with an expression of intense concern and worry. She didn't even blink, but rather stared him down, her jaw setting and her mouth becoming a hard, thin line.

"I **_hate_** blood magic, Alistair," she said, a brand new fierceness in her eyes that hadn't been there before that almost scared him. Her voice was raw, a low growl that held pure, undiluted anger in it, "I _hate_ it. It destroyed my home. It killed everyone I had ever known. I spent twelve y _ears_ in that tower, all to have it ripped away from me. There may have been a time when I showed mercy towards blood mages, to Jowan and to those who were misguided, but no more. They took _everything_ away from me, and I will take _everything_ from them."

Kattrin's entire body had become rigid, having removed her head from Alistair's shoulder to look him head on. She took in deep, labored breaths, hot tears beginning to role down her cheeks. In a flash, the burning, un-Kattrin-like anger faded, giving way to that of a young woman who had lost so much in so short a time that the seams had finally come to rip. When the first sobs racked her body, Mouse raised his head, bumping into her elbows as her hands flew up to cover her face, trying to avoid looking at a very _stunned_ Alistair. The mabari whined, giving him an accusatory look. He'd never seen her angry, let alone enraged; this was new and all too much for the both of them.

Gently, _ever so gently_ , Alistair took her hands away from her now wet and splotchy face, holding them in his own. He didn't know what to say, knowing anything he offered might not have been what she needed or wanted to hear right now. Instead, he gave her hands a squeeze, and wondered how terrible was karma to play its tricks on such a wonderful, brilliant, _compassionate_ woman and drive her to such depths.

Kattrin looked away from him, towards the shadows that surrounded the camp, and bit down on her lip. Now, _now_ , the embarrassment was surfacing, her cheeks burning a bright red and regret pouring into her chest.

"I'm sorry," she finally croaked out, "I just, I don't--"

"You don't have to apologize," he told her firmly, squeezing her hands again, "I get that emotions are running high right now. You've gone through a lot. You should sleep, if you can."

She looked as if she were going to say something, deciding one, twice, if she should, before finally whispering it.

"...Stay with me. Please."

He didn't even respond, only nudged Mouse off of her legs and let her lead him towards her tent, the dog huffing in protest before settling again with his back against the fire.

They fell asleep with her head on his chest and his hand clasped in her's. For once, nightmares did not wake them.

**Author's Note:**

> i've noticed i have a penchant for writing trauma-related things immediately followed by sleepy cuddles. is this a trend.


End file.
